Nine Days
by arethesemyfeet
Summary: Future fic. Some things take time to get over but some times things get easier after you take the first step. MiSa.
1. Day One: Loss and Tears

NINE DAYS

**Summary: Future fic. Some things take time to get over but some times things get easier after you take the first step. MiSa.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story. They are and remain the property of Fox.**

**Author's Note: I'm not entirely sure what an AU is but if it's what I think it is then this is one. The idea's been floating round in my head for few days so I thought I should get it down on paper. I guess the background is that Michael and co. escaped and Lincoln got his innocence proved. Michael turned himself in and um did another few months but the government and courts were sympathetic and understanding and just plain guilty for Lincolns framing and all so they were lenient. Veronicas not dead but only because I'm Irish and we are currently suck in limbo between series one and two so Veronica hasn't really died at all for me yet. Sara forgave Michael and they got married and decided to start a family and I think that's all the background you need to know. I very much doubt this fic contains any spoilers but if it does I apologise profusely! Um yeah sorry for rambling on. Won't happen again! Oh yeah but while I'm here sorry the chapter's so short!**

_Day One: Loss and Tears_

Michael wrapped Sara tightly in his arms. Her head rested against his chest. Her body was limp, her red hair stuck to her forehead and face obscuring her view of the world. But she did not notice. Her eyes were dry and glassy and she stared out through them but saw nothing. He could feel her heart beating, its irregularity scaring him. He pulled her closer to him but she didn't react He kissed her head. He caressed her hands. He whispered in her ear but once again got no reaction. She was absorbed in her loss. It consumed her. He was hurting, but her? Her heart was breaking. Breaking for their child that had never got a chance. A chance to breathe, to live, to be. Never got a chance to be loved by to people who had so much love to give. He gave up trying to gain a response from her, he realised he was getting nowhere. Instead he just let her feel his love.

Their silent reverie was interrupted by a nurse entering the room. The little noise she made caused Michael to realise how eerily quiet the room was. They had been moved to a private room on the far side of the maternity ward away from all the screaming babies who were so very much alive. The nurse was carrying something in her arms. Michael suddenly felt very cold.

"Sara", he whispered loudly hoping to get through to her. Sara started and looked up. She acknowledged the nurses presence and he felt her stiffen in his arms as her eyes found the bundle. The nurse moved towards them but Sara made no attempt to take the bundle form her arms. Michael squeezed her hand before letting go of it.

"Sara?"

Reluctantly she held out her arms and the nurse gently laid the lifeless bundle in them. She lingered for a few seconds before leaving the room in the same quiet manner with which she had come in.

Michael wrapped his arms round Sara's so they were both holding the bundle. He rested his head on her shoulder and they both looked adoringly at the pale face and thin blue lips of their baby boy. His eyelids were almost translucent. Soft brown curls adorned his head. He was tiny. His head was smaller than the palm of Michael's hand. Sara pulled back the grey woollen blanket to reveal his tiny body. Ten fingers. Ten toes. All tiny but perfect. His hand was only slightly bigger than the nail of Michael's little finger. Sara stroked the baby's chest. Her fingertips lingered on the area where her son's heart should have been beating. Michael laid his hand over hers and gently curled her fingers into her palm. They looked longingly at their son all too aware of the weight of their loss. They held their son for what seemed like forever but what couldn't have been longer than an hour. They thought of nothing but their son and all that he meant to them. They traced his outline with their fingers and touched every inch of him, from his mouth to each of his toes. Michael found parts of himself in his son and parts of Sara and he suddenly realised that this child was a part of them and they would never get to see him grow up. This was his child. This was the product of his and Sara's love. And it was gone. He suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. His son was lying here in front of him but what Michael was looking at was just an empty shell. He must have let out a gasp because Sara shifted in his arms. It seemed that he had jolted her out of her thoughts. She looked at him and he tried to smile but he felt like his heart would crack if he did. Instead he looked back to the tiny figure nestled in their arms. It was time to say goodbye. Sara leaned down and kissed her son's veined forehead and Michael stroked his son's downy curls. They gently wrapped up their baby, their eyes absorbing every detail and imprinting it in their memories. Michael pressed the call button and a nurse gently opened the door and delicately took the bundle from their arms giving them a sympathetic smile before leaving them alone in their silence.

Michael absentmindedly played with Sara's fingers, winding his through hers, all the while thinking about their son. About the life they could have had. Should have had. Sara was staring into space, absorbed in her own little world and seemingly unaware of his presence. He needed her to know he was still here. Hell he just needed her as much as he knew she needed him, even if she wasn't aware of it yet. He pulled her to him again. She seemed to relax a little into his embrace but her face was still expressionless. He buried his head in her hair and breathed in her scent. She shuddered involuntarily but made no effort to move away from him.

"I'm so proud of you, Sara." He whispered.

And that was when she broke. And he held her to him until her tears ran dry.

* * *

**So let me know waht you think! Is it worth continuing? All comments thoughts much appreciated.**


	2. Day Two: Forbidden Memories

**Day Two: Forbidden Memories**

Michaels shirt was crumpled and his trousers creased when he awoke on a small camp bed in Sara's room. The events of the day before had drained her - both emotionally and physically. He had told her he was proud of her but words couldn't express how proud. He had seen the heartache etched on her face when their son's heartbeat hadn't made itself heard on the foetal scan. And he had seen the tears that had ran from her eyes in rivers as she had given birth to a baby that would never grow up. He could hardly believe how strong she was and to see her sleeping now, so peacefully, made him believe for the shortest second, that what had happened the day before hadn't really happened at all. But then the heavy weight that pressed down on his heart reminded him of all that he had lost. Not only a son but a part of his wife too.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy and Michael needed air. He leaned over Sara and pressed a kiss to her forehead promising to come back. She stirred but didn't wake. He pulled his jacket from the hook on the door and left the room, closing the door gently behind him. He walked to the end of the corridor and the sight of a vending machine suddenly made him realise how thirsty he was. He rooted in his pocket and pulled out some spare change. He inserted the coins and winced as the coke can clattered into the container, the sound echoing down the deserted corridor. He popped the ring pull on the can and brought it to his lips. The coke tasted metallic but he didn't really care. He wandered round the dimly lit ward. It was very still and the odd sound that punctuated the silence seemed magnified to his ears. This wasn't how it was supposed to be he thought to himself. He had gone through so much only to be led to this moment in time. The world seemed to have abandoned him and as he stood alone, a wispy isolate silhouette on a desolate corridor. How could his world have fallen apart at the lack of a sound. One simple sound. The sound of a heartbeat. His son's heartbeat. He had heard it only twice, at the earlier ultrasounds but it was a sound he would never forget. It pounded in the back of his head. Somewhat like 2The Tell-tale Heart" he pondered. Although the sound did not provoke a feeling of guilt. Instead the heavy feeling of loss settled in some hollow part of his heart. He hoisted himself up on an abandoned gurney and leaned back against the cool wall, grey in the poor lighting. As the empty silence reverberated round him he became aware of his own breathing, In. Out. In. Out. It seemed a bit pointless to him. In. Out. Why could his son not do this? It seemed so easy. In. Out. He sighed and the anger that was rising in him like a wave fizzled out. Anger towards his own son would get him nowhere. He thought of his son, with his blue lips and thin curly hair. He smiled softly at the image of his son in Sara's arms. He vowed never to forget a single detail of that image. Even Sara's tears falling on the cold soft skin of the baby's eyelids. Sending him to sleep.

The harsh sound of a baby crying pierced the early morning stillness and jerked Michael from his doze. The first rays of the morning were creeping through the gaps between shadowy buildings colouring the world in hazy shades of blue. The burning red of the rising sun reminded him of Sara's hair and with a sickening jolt he realised he had left her alone for far too long. He took of at a brisk pace down the corridor forgetting the can of coke which sat abandoned on a lone gurney in a darkened corridor. An eerie image for anyone who cared to notice as they passed by. No one did.

She was still asleep when he returned. The first rays causing her hair to catch fire. It was splayed across the pillow. A glowing halo around her pale face. She was an angel in his eyes and he savoured the moment of beauty, storing it in his memory along with the image of her and his son. He strode to her bedside and took her slim hand in his, gently running his thumb over her knuckles. She stirred at the touch but her eyes remained closed. Michael let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding as her features softened again with sleep. It was better that she didn't waken. Her face was peaceful as she slept. It seemed that the pain of their loss hadn't invaded her dreams. He was thankful for that. At least she would have them to escape to. He doubted he'd ever dream again. For the last two years his dreams had been filled with her. Hell who was he kidding! His dreams had belonged to her since the first time he laid eyes on her in that cold infirmary. He found it hard to believe that it had been over three years since he had been in Fox River. Sara had long ago forgiven him for what he had done but Michael couldn't quite forgive _himself_ for the hurt he had caused her. And now look at what he had done. He had broken her and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to fix her. He hadn't planned for this. And damned if he knew how to deal with the situation. Sure, she was peaceful now but she couldn't sleep forever. Sooner or later she would have to wake up to this cruel world that had stolen their son. When she woke up she would break all over again and he didn't know how he would hold her together. And in the midst of all his despair, Michael's tears slipped heavy from his eyelids.

He awoke to her eyes staring at him with a piercing intensity. He blinked a few times to rid his eyes of sleep. He somehow managed a soft smile which she didn't return. Her eyes were dull and hard but he detected something hidden behind them. Something he couldn't yet identify. He slowly sat up and winced at the sharp pain in his neck. He reached up an arm to gently rub it before he moved his chair closer to the head of her bed. She was still looking at him. Not saying anything, just staring. It unnerved him slightly. He looked her straight in the eye.

"Sara?"

She blinked and looked startled as though her mind had just registered what it was looking at. He tried smiling again but she looked away and fixed her eyes on a spot on the wall opposite her bed.

"Sara, talk to me. Please!" he pleaded with her. She kept her face averted. He gently squeezed her hand.

"Sara, please. I need you", his voice was soft and on the verge of breaking. She turned to him, her eyes rimmed with sparkling tears.

"I want him back", she whispered as the tears spilled over her eyelids and trickled down her cheeks. He wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs but the tears didn't relent. He moved to sit beside her on the bed and she shuffled over to make room for him. He gathered her into his arms and she laid her head on his chest, her tears soaking into his cotton t-shirt.

"He was so tiny." she whispered.

"I know. His hands were so small. And his little fingers. Did you see the size of his fingers, Sara, they were so small!" Michael's voice, while soft, was rapt with awe for his son.

"He had your nose." Michael chuckled at her words.

"Yeah and your chin." Sara didn't smile. Instead another tear fell from her eye to his shirt.

"I want him back." she sobbed, "I want to see if he has you eyes. I want to teach him to walk, and to talk. I want to watch him grow. I want my baby back Michael!"

"I know, Sara, I know." he soothed, "I want him back too." He kissed the top of her head and held her tight as sobs wreaked her weak body.

They sat like that for hours, saying nothing. Every so often they would drift off to an exhausted sleep but would be woken by the silent nurses coming to check on Sara. Every time they opened the door the sounds from a world Michael no longer wanted to live in came through. Sometimes he would hear a baby cry and each time it would cut through to his heart. Sara hadn't eaten. But then again neither had Michael. Food was the last thing they thought about. Night had fallen when Sara spoke again.

"I'd already made memories for him, you know." Michael tilted his head to look at her but said nothing and waited for her to continue.

"He was going to take his first steps at Christmas. And for his first birthday I was going to make him a cake and I'd give him a bit and he'd get it all over his face. Chocolate. Chocolate cake. Yeah he would have liked that. And at Halloween I was going to dress him up as a ghost and we'd take him trick or treating. And he was going to wear little dungarees for our family photo. And he'd look great in all his school photos and we'd put them up all around the house even if it embarrassed him. And he'd have lots of friends and when he went to high school he'd have a really great girlfriend and I'd get on really well with her. And he was going to go to college and do really well and have a great life. It's not fair, Michael! He doesn't get his life and I don't get my memories. I used to dream about him and all the things we'd do together as a family. And now I have nothing. Nothing but hollow dreams. He's not here anymore and I feel so…empty." She let her head fall back onto his chest and he kissed her hair.

"you've got me, Sara. You've always got me." She nodded against his chest and sighed before falling quiet. They both sank back into their own little worlds of grief, yet clung to each other in case they ever needed rescuing.

Michael had memories too. He had spent hours during the last six months stroking Sara's stomach and imagining his child's future. He had pictured the pride on Sara's face as their son had taken his first steps or learned to ride a bike. He had felt the sense of fear as his son started school and sensed the elation as he won his first baseball game, or soccer match, or swim meet. He had seen it all. Had taken all the pictures. But in a cruel twist of fate he was being denied the memories he had so desperately wanted to make. They would have to start over. He looked down at Sara and wondered if she'd be stung enough to begin again. And that was when he made a silent promise, to his son, to Sara, to himself. He would make her strong again.


	3. Day Three: Leave the Pain Behind

_**A/N: Yeah so sorry this took so long guys but I'm sort of writing this during classes at school and I've been bogged down with work recently so sorry bout that. I know this fic is a little depressing but I don't really think humour is appropriate for the situation if you get what I mean. Thanks to those of you who reviewed, I much appreciate it. For those of you who read could you please review so I know what you think about this fic. It's a bit of delicate story line and I want to know if I'm dealing with it well. Here's the next chapter. I don't really know the length of time Sara would have had to stay in hospital so I'm taking creative liberties with this.I hope you enjoy.**_

**Disclaimer: _I do not own Prison Break or any of the characters however much i wish sighs_**

**Leave the Pain Behind**

His hands shook slightly as he accepted the small frame being offered to him by on of the midwives. He glanced down at it and his breath caught in his throat. Beneath the thin sheet of glass blue paint showed the perfectly formed hands and feet, fingers and toes of his son. He mentally counted the digits. Ten of each. Perfect and tiny. Miniature versions of his own. He looked at his own hand, the knuckles white form the strength at which he gripped the frame. He relaxed his grip a little and placed one of his hands on the glass. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears as he realised that his palm covered the four tiny prints. In the centre of the page a strand of hair curled innocently, the hairs shining in the light. He reached out a tentative finger to feel the soft hair but all he met was a barrier of glass. As tempted as he was to break it he knew he couldn't. He intended to give the precious frame pride of place over the fireplace. He gently stroked the glass that protected the keepsake, his fingers trembled slightly as they touched the place where his son's name was neatly written.

_Benedict Henry_

_January 13th_

Benedict. 'Blessed'. He had been a blessing while he had been here. Now a dark cloud hug over his absence. Sighing, Michael tore his gaze from the frame and brought it to rest on Sara. She was sitting on her bed, waiting for him as he signed her discharge forms. She sat with her shoulders hunched forward. Her head was bowed down, her hair hung limp and dull over her face. She had his jacket resting on her shoulders, her slim fingers peeking out form under its hem. The jacket was to large for her thin frame and its size only emphasised how weak and lost she looked. Like a little child obediently waiting to be picked up. He sighed and looked back down at the frame. He nodded to the nurse before retreating back to Sara's room, his face grim.

She glanced up when he came in and his heart broke at the sight of her. Dark circles rimmed her eyes which were red and sparkling with unshed tears. Her skin was too pale and her cheeks gaunt. Her lips were dry and they made no promise of ever smiling again. He sat beside her on the bed, the thin mattress sank with his weight. He silently passed the frame to her and turned his eyes to her face . He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear so he could see her reaction better. She stared at the frame for several moments taking in every detail, from counting the toes to examining the swirling lines of the printed fingertips. She turned to look at him and the tears spilled silently from her eyes, matching his own.

"This is all we have left." She whispered, "and it's not enough."

They decided to take a service lift down from the ward, not wanting to pass the nursery on their way to the main stairs. The nurses had either attempted to smile at them or avoided looking at them, Michael wasn't sure which was worse. One of the nurses had kindly offered to show them to the lift. The sight must have been a little depressing. A grim faced nurse escorting a broken man with piercingly sad eyes, a bag slung over one shoulder, his exhausted wife leaning on the other. She was tightly clutching the picture frame, never taking her eyes of it. Michael guided her down the corridors, using the arm he had tightly wrapped round her shoulders to steer her round corners. He blocked all the sounds of the ward from his mind ad hoped that the sounds of crying babies didn't reach Sara's ears. His mind had easily mapped the layout of the ward and he knew they were on the far side of the ward from the nursery but he also knew that a babies cry could span distances especially when it was the one sound you wanted to hear. He looked down at Sara. She seemed oblivious to everything around her, oblivious to his arm around her waist, oblivious to her feet taking her from the pain of this place. Not that she ever leave the pain behind. But perhaps there was form of closure to be found outside these walls. Her eyes were firmly focused on the small brown curl in the frame tightly as if she feared someone could take it from. Who would want it? AS it was it held no significance, but to Sara and Michael it was the most precious thing in the world.

The service lift suited his mod. It was dark despite the single fluorescent bulb that cast an unforgiving light into the dank, dusty corners. Michael, always one to take in his surroundings, glanced around. His gaze halted on the metal ceiling of the cabin. The grey panel had been removed at some stage giving him a view of the darkened elevator shaft. His mind took note of the pulleys and cables and began to work out their mechanisms but the slight pressure on his arm distracted him from the chains. He looked down to see Sara leaning on him again, her eyes still firmly fixed on the frame. Michael realised that the dark haired nurse had followed them into the elevator. She slid the door shut and the light shook slightly casting irregular shadows over Sara's face making her look even more gaunt and pale. She jumped slightly and leaned closer to him as the lift jolted to a start. Her unnatural dependence on him was unnerving. She was usually her own person, never openly expressing her need for other people. He supposed that her life as a political orphan had taught her not to rely on people too readily. Which is exactly why her recent behaviour was worrying. Not that it wasn't unfounded. He understood her vulnerability, her sense of confusion, he felt the same things but he knew that even when things got tough for Sara she rarely turned to anyone else for help. She chose to deal with things in her own way.

That was why she was scaring him. It seemed she had lost apart of herself or had just given up. He pressed a kiss to her bowed head and tried not to read into the fact that her body showed no sign of recognition. He suppressed a sigh and tore his gaze from her red head. His eyes roamed the small cabin once again before resting on the nurse. The cold clinical light in the elevator showed everything for what it was and Michael could tell she felt uncomfortable . She avoided looking at them and stood close to the door, her back towards them, giving them some sense of privacy in such an enclosed space. She lightly tapped her fingers against her leg to some tune that Michael couldn't hear. It was, no doubt, an attempt to distract herself from the tense atmosphere. He could imagine her counting down the seconds until she was out of here and back among people like herself who didn't have the burden of grief resting heavy on their shoulders.

Michael tightened his arm round Sara as the elevator came to a stop. The nurse slid back the door and it folded like an accordion. He stepped out pulling Sara with him. He nodded to the nurse and flashed her a half smile which she returned. He pretended not to notice the sympathy in her eyes.

He led Sara down the corridor towards the exit. She still clung to the frame as if it were a lifeline. Michael became her eyes and feet and guided her through the main waiting room, avoiding people like the shadows skirt round the light. The automatic doors slid open enticing them forward. The outside world attacked Michael's senses. The fresh air was a welcome relief after the ever present stale smell of death and illness which hung in the hospital. The world was a frenzy of colour and he found himself and Sara swallowed up by the crowds of people who did not know or care about them. After days of being cooped up in a stuffy room in a stark hospital the onslaught of colour and noise gave him a strange sense of euphoria. No one even turned to look at him as they passed by and he basked in the feeling of invisibility something he hadn't experienced since before he went to prison. Sara showed no sign of noticing a change in her surroundings. Her shoulders were still hunched over, her head bent down, her hair hanging over her face. She was withdrawing into herself. She was spending most of her time in her own little worlds. Worlds where she was, no doubt, happy. Michael wondered if they'd ever be happy again. Truly happy. He wondered if there'd ever be a time when they didn't picture their son or imagine what he was like. He wondered if they're would ever be a time in their lives that wouldn't be governed by him. Not that Michael wanted to forget. Far from it. He wanted to remember his son forever but he didn't want to live in the shadow of an empty hope, an empty dream, an empty promise. That wasn't living. That was dwelling on what might have been. Michael wasn't one to compare what is to what might have been. That just wasn't practical. Michael wanted to move on, to heal. And he needed Sara to do the same. He had no intention of leaving her behind in the darkness of grief. He had promised to stay with her for life. And that was a promise he intended to keep.

He gently took Sara's hand in his and breathed a sigh of relief when her hand clung to his. He leaned closer and kissed her temple before he began to lead her across the car park, the sun glinting of the puddles that surrounded them.


	4. Day Four: Embrace the Emptiness

**I know this was a long time coming but I've been really busy studying for exams but I'm off for Christmas on Thursday so I'll try and get a few chapters up during the holidays but I still have a lot of study to do for my final exams so I'm not promising anything. Also much thanks to pinkkitty4eva an VA-Parky for your much appreciated reviews and support!**

**Here's the next chapter. Enjoy and review!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Prison Break or anything associated with it. It belongs to whoever it is who owns it.**

**Embrace the Emptiness**

It was the light which woke Michael. The curtains were open and the sun shone a bright square around their bodies. The rays glistened with dancing flecks of dust which irritated Michael's nose. Sara's hair in his face wasn't helping. He raised himself up on one elbow and leaned over to look at her face. She hadn't woken yet and her eyes were still and unmoving behind her eyelids. Dreams, not nightmares he reassured himself s he loosened his arms from around her and quietly left the bed. He made his way to the kitchen, his bare feet slapping lightly on the cool grey flagstones.

Michael hadn't been home since they had left for the hospital four days ago. When they had returned the day before they had collapsed into a bed that, thankfully, had not smelled of disinfectant. Neither of them had been in the mood to talk, eat or do anything at all that involved energy or concentration. Michael wasn't looking forward to the sight that would greet him in the fridge. They had ordered Chinese food the night before they left and no doubt the food had already begun to seep through the paper containers, The milk would be sour, the orange juice bitter and the bread mouldy. Shopping was a task Michael really wasn't up for at the moment. Sighing he opened the fridge door and surveyed the shelves. No soggy cardboard containers, no rotting vegetables or gone of fruit juice. He pulled a carton of milk from the door and checked the sell-by-date. I had only been bought the day before. Confusion settled over Michael's features before realisation set in. Lincoln. Michael made a mental note to thank him when he next saw him. He had spoken to him every day since Sara had been admitted but he and Veronica had seemed to realise that they needed space and time together and had not ventured in to see them at the hospital. Michael would have to thank him for that too. He wandered round the kitchen and noticed that Lincoln had only purchased the necessary staple foods - bread, rice, pasta, vegetables. A shopping trip, it seemed, was inevitable. But at least not for a few days.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was hoarse and came out barely louder than a whisper. He pulled his head from a cupboard he had been rooting in and turned to smile at her. She was wearing a baggy college t-shirt and loose sweats that were tucked into a pair of legwarmers. Her hair was mussed from sleep and her eyelids still hung heavy.

"You hungry?" He asked her, not feeling the need to answer her question. She shook her head but moved further into the kitchen.

"You gotta eat, Sara." He told her and let her see the concern in his eyes. She gave a sort sigh before hoisting herself up on a stool at the breakfast bar.

"What do you want me to make you?" She shrugged and looked at the tabletop.

"Omelette?" Another shrug. Michael moved toward the bread bin, lifted the lid and poked around, triumphantly pulling out a bag of bagels. A necessity Lincoln thankfully had not overlooked.

"Bagel?" Again she shrugged but he noticed the slight inclination of her head at the same time.

"Bagels it is then!" He attempted to grin at her but her eyes were staring at the table again. Sadness over came the attempted grin. It was a lot more comfortable than forcing his muscles to smile. He toasted the bagels without further conversation, Sara's sniffles punctuating the silence every now and ten. He was almost relieved when the toaster popped and he had something to do with his hands. They had been buried deep in the pockets of his sweatpants in an effort to prevent himself from reaching out and holding her so tight and warm she couldn't possibly be unhappy. He very much doubted she'd appreciate having the tears squeezed out of her however. He rooted around in cupboard and discovered a jar of chocolate spread. He glanced at Sara. She could probably do with some chocolate. He opened the jar and scooped a large amount of the spread onto a knife. He dumped it on the bagel and spread it in a thick layer before placing it on a plate and handing it to Sara. He watched her as she eyed the large portion of chocolate.

"I thought you could use a pick-me-up." He explained. She nodded but didn't seem to see the humour in his statement or his actions. She picked up the bagel and sank her teeth into it wincing a little at the sweetness of the chocolate. She glanced up at him as she chewed. He smiled at her and she looked back down at the table. He sighed and went back to the toaster to get his own bagel.

They sat on the couch, Michael holding Sara in his arms. The evening news provided background noise to their silence. Her eyes were closed but he knew she wasn't sleeping. Every now and then her breath would hitch as though holding back a sob. He traced lazy circles on her arm through her sweatshirt and wondered if the action provided her any comfort at all. He glanced at the television. Someone had robbed K-mart. He shook his head, amused but then his mind began mapping his local store and the possible ways to rob it. Not for future use of course. More for something to distract his mind from the heavy sadness that invaded the spaces between their silence. No words were exchanged between them but each knew how the other felt. Michael's mind strayed from the easy but pointless task of robbing his local K-Mart and focused on the blank wall above the fire place. The cream walls were bare and Michael couldn't help but picture his son's frame hanging there. He wondered if Sara would agree. Or if she'd just stay quiet. She had lapsed into silence over the last few days, speaking very rarely and not saying a lot on the rare occasions when she did speak. Michael found himself talking about nothing to fill the empty silence. He doubted she was listening to him or if she could even hear him but he couldn't stand the silence that lingered between them. And it wasn't the quiet that he was used to with Sara. The comfortable silence where they could communicate without actually talking. But this was different. This was…silence. Michael didn't know what to say to make her feel better. He didn't know how exactly she was feeling or what was going through her head. And if he didn't know then how could he help?

They must have fallen asleep for when Michael next opened his eyes the darkness was rinsing through the pale pink sky. Sara was asleep o his chest, her head rising and falling with each breath he took. He gently stroked her hair, cautiously so as not to wake her. The TV was still murmuring away. An old black and white film. Michael reached for the remote on the armrest and turned the TV off, watching as the light was engulfed by the black. He looked at the silver clock hung high above the television and somehow managed to read the time despite the semi-darkness. He sighed as he registered the hands. He did a quick mental calculation and paled as he realised that in 15 hours he would have to attend his son's funeral. Lincoln hade made all the arrangements, much to Michael's relief, and had hopefully taken into account Michael's suggestions. It was still not something he was looking forward to. No parent should ever have to bury a child never mind one that had never really had a chance to live. He let out another deep sigh and looked down at Sara as she stirred with his movement. Her eyelashes fanned her pale cheeks but were stuck together with the tears that spilled from her eyes despite her sleeping state. Her mouth was still set in a firm line. He pulled her closer to him and held her tight. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him, her darkened brown eyes meeting his ever present intense stare. She stared at him for a few moments before allowing her eyes to drift shut. He copied her action and let a smile grace his lips as she rested her head on his chest. He held her close and together they embraced the empty silence that pounded in their ears.

**Yeah I realise that chapter was short and relatively uneventful but I promise the next one will be better. Go press the button.**


	5. Day Five: The Lonely Ceremony

**First of all I'm sorry this took so long, it was rally hard to write. Secondly I have only ever been to one funeral and that was around ten years ago and I was 7 so I really don't remember it. Thirdly funerals in Ireland are done a little different to those in America and I basically made this all up so forgive me if the funeral details are completely wrong!**

Black. He had never been a huge fan of the colour. And now here he was, dressed head to toe in it. Teamed with a white dress shirt, he felt like a penguin in shiny shoes. And feeling like an arctic animal wasn't improving his mood any. Sara, however looked a far cry from a penguin. Or any other animal for that matter. Michael was staring at her through a chink in the bedroom door. He took in her black trousers, her black jumper, her simple flat black shoes and, for an added splash of colour, her long grey overcoat that lay on the bed. He hated his cynicism but today wasn't a day for jolly spirits. Today was the day he would bury the so he never got a chance to get to know. Jolly was the last thing he was feeling.

He looked Sara up and down again. This time with a more critical eye. She had lost weight. And not just the little pregnancy weight she had put on. That was long since gone. Her face was gaunt and the trousers hung a little looser than they were meant to. Her jumper was tight and accentuated the fact that her ribs stuck out and that her elbows were bony. Her hair was still damp from a recent shower and she was pulling a comb through the tangles. It had lost it's natural glow and hung limp onto her shoulders. Michael saw no sign of her makeup bag and he assumed she wasn't up to making herself look like nothing had happened. No one would see her anyway. Well except the priest. When your son had never really lived , you couldn't expect a huge turn out at his funeral. Michael thought this to himself as he watched Sara wrench the comb through a particularly stubborn knot. To saw he was slightly bitter was an understatement. He longed to go in and help Sara but he knew that she needed to get over this hurdle herself. She needed to get back into some semblance of a routine. It would help. He was almost sure of that. He sighed and moved away from the door to find some breakfast for them both. They were going to need the energy today.

It was tiny. That was all Michael could think as he stared at the white coffin. It was tiny. The size of a shoe box. A shoe box for tiny shoes. Had he really been that tiny when they had held him. He didn't think so. He was suddenly panicked. What if this wasn't really their son. What if someone had put something else in the coffin and…no! He wasn't' going to think like that. Lincoln wouldn't let that happen. He had been that tiny. It was just different light, different perspective. Michael forced himself not to panic. He had to stay strong. For Sara. Yes for Sara. Sara who was leaning against his arm, stiff and silent. Tears spilled from her eyes unbidden. Michael felt their familiar warmth as they trickled down his own cheeks as he took in the coffin. The tiny wreath of daisies placed on top. He was surprised that his tears hadn't dried up. Could that even happen? Michael shook his head and tried to focus on the matter at hand. His son's funeral. On second thoughts, he wanted to focus on anything but this time and this place. He wanted to be a million miles away. He wanted to turn his back and walk away from this place, from this moment, from this pain. But he couldn't. His feet remained firm on the ground beneath him, his hand surrounded hers, his eyes surveyed the scene, darting around the graveyard in a futile attempt to avoid the sight of the coffin and the simple smiling daisies. God he hated daisies. They were too bright, too happy, too…too like his son would have been. And that was when he understood why Lincoln and Veronica had chosen them. He glanced at them. Lincoln's arm wrapped firmly round Veronica's waist. She pulled her coat tighter round herself to hide her rounded stomach. A feeble attempt to shield the mourning parents from what could have been. He wondered if he should feel angry at her for coming here, her pregnancy glow only slightly dulled by the circumstances. But he couldn't . He couldn't be angry at someone who had placed daisies on his son's coffin. And after such emotion filled days he doubted he possessed the strength to be angry even if he wanted to. He was suddenly aware of the silence left by the lack of the priest's voice.

He glanced up and realised that everyone was staring at him. Well except Sara. Her eyes were focused on the gaping hole in front of them. The sides of the grave were straight and even save for the odd indentation made where the spade struck the soil at anything other than a 180° angle. The soil was fresh and emanated the sweet scent of overturned clay. A green blanket of fake grass lay over a mound of clay that had once filled the hole. Michael took all this in before he shook his head out of analyse mode. Everyone was still staring at him and he couldn't for the life of him imagine why. He probably should have listened to the priest. He looked at Lincoln, his eyes pleading with him. Lincoln nodded at him and then at the coffin. Michael had no idea what he was supposed to do. He cast his mind back to his mother's funeral but came up blank. He had purposefully erased that particular occasion from his memory. He looked up at the priest, his face slightly panicked. The priest smiled softly at him.

"Is there anything you'd like to say Mr. Scofield?" He asked gently. Michael's eyes widened. What was he supposed to say? He glanced down at Sara who was staring up at him. She nodded and released her grip on his arm. Michael stepped forward, shaking slightly.

"I don't really know what to say. Do I say goodbye or "I'll miss you" or "I'm sorry I never got to know you"? This is something one is never prepared for. A speech no one should ever have to make. I guess I should just tell him al the things I never had a chance to. Tell him about all the dreams and hopes we had for him." He glanced up at Sara who was staring at him through tear filled eyes. She came him courage to continue.

" Ben, we loved you the minute we knew you were there. While we'll never get to see your first steps or hear your first word or walk you to your first day of school you did give us your first kick, your first heartbeat, your first hiccough." He was staring into the grave now, oblivious to the tears which spilled from his eyes and blurred his vision. "We wanted so much for you Ben. I wanted to dress up in a stupid Santa suit for your first Christmas. I wanted to buy things for you that you would never use just because they came in big coloured boxes. I wanted to put up a swing for you in the garden and push you on it all day but Sara said no because she was afraid you'd fall off. But I never would have let that happen, Ben, I promise. And if you ever fell down we would have been right there to pick you up and make you better. Because that's what parents do. And we were your parents Ben. Even if it was only for a short blissful time, we were your parents. We were the parents of the greatest boy in the world. And we always will be Ben. Even if we can't hold you at night or hear you laugh you'll always be in our dreams. We'll miss you Ben. Forever." Michael cleared his throat and went back to Sara's side. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently. The priest nodded to him before finishing the lonely ceremony. Michael wrapped an arm round Sara's waist and they slowly walked away.


	6. Day Six: The Unanswerable Questions

**Firstoffly I want to apologise profusely for taking so long to get this up. I was studying and then my internet was then and then my monitor broke and well things have been a little crazy! Thanks to those of you who reviewed, I was a little of unsure about the last chapter but you guys put me at my ease. Thanks for that!**

**And now on with the show!**

_**The Unanswerable Questions**_

He couldn't do it again. He couldn't sit here all day staring at nothing and wallowing in his own self pity. He needed to get out of the house, needed to get away from the oppressive silence that drowned out the screaming in his head. He eyed the closet door. It was open a chink, allowing the darkness within to seep out. He contemplated marching over and shutting it, escaping the sight of the box of the unassembled crib and the mobile with the pale yellow ducks that Sara hadn't been able to resist. He heard Sara sigh from the vicinity of the living room and his mind was made up. He strode over and flung open the door. He avoided looking at the boxes stacked on the ground, his eyes instead seeking out their jackets hung neatly on the rail. His black, hers grey. He made a mental note to buy them new coats. Red, green, pink, he didn't care. Anything but black and grey. Shaking the thoughts from his head he took their coats from their hangers. He draped them over his arm and rooted in the basket by the door, re-emerging minutes later with hats, scarves and gloves. Arms full, he let the closet and kicked the door shut with his foot. He followed the sound's of Sara's sighs and found himself in the living room. Sara was watching TV. Michael glanced at the screen. Dallas reruns. Sara hated Dallas. Which meant she was staring, not watching. As per usual. He dumped the clothes beside her on the couch. She didn't even glance up.

"Sara?" She looked up at him, her face showing her surprise at seeing him there.

"Hey." Her voice was soft and low. He had become accustomed to it lately but that wasn't to say he liked it. This new Sara was…numb. She didn't smile anymore, or talk. He had to drag her out of bed in the mornings yet she didn't sleep. Not during the day, not during the night. And he knew this. He knew this because he spent the whole night with her in his arms and sleep rarely overcame them. He loved Sara. Always. But he wanted the old one back.

She was staring up at him now, a questioning look in her eyes. It was all he ever saw in them now. Questions. It wasn't often he had answers for her. He was relieved that today would be different.

"We're going for a walk."

"We are? Why?"

"Because we need fresh air. Because we need to get out of the house. Because we need to get out and stop feeling so goddam sorry for ourselves!" Her face hardened at his words. He hadn't meant to get angry. He was just frustrated. Not with her. Never with her. He was frustrated with the situation. Frustrated by the fact that there was nothing he could do about it. He hated not being able to control situations. His emotions got the better of him when he wasn't in control. He forced his feelings back inside himself and allowed calm to settle over him before he continued.

"I didn't mean it like that, Sara. I didn't…I just…" He didn't know how to rectify the situation. He struggled for the right words. Struggling for what to say was not something Michael was used to. He looked at her again and sighed. She was angry. Well it was an emotion. That was something at least. "I think we need to start getting out, start doing things. We can't stay holed up in here forever. Sooner or later we're going to have to go back into the real world. We're going to have to go back to work and go shopping and talk to our friends…"

"Where are our friends now, Michael?" Sara interrupted him harshly. "Shouldn't they be here huh? Shouldn't they be 'helping us through'?" Her voice was laced with icy sarcasm.

"They're giving you space, Sara. They're giving us space. They don't know how to act either Sara. They're giving us time to deal with this. To try and make some sense of it all." Sara opened her mouth to interrupt him again but Michael didn't give her a chance. "I know we don't understand Sara. I know we both wasn't to know why but some questions don't have answers. We can't let this thing hang over our heads forever. We need to move on. We need to move past this. We won't forget. Ever. I wouldn't want to forget but we have to move on. Please, Sara, we have to move on." His voice was pleading. Her face softened and she gave an almost imperceptible nod. He smiled at her. She turned from him to pick up her coat. She shrugged it on her shoulders before winding a scarf round her neck and pulling gloved onto her slim hands. She completed the tasks slowly, as if trying to buy herself time, but she could only stall for so long.

"You ready?" She nodded her reply and made her way slowly to the door. Michael turned of the television and met her on the front step. He closed the door behind him before turning to her. She had the lower half of her face buried in her dark blue scarf but he could still see that she was scared.

"You ready?" He asked again. This time she gave no response. He took her gloved hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. She laced her fingers through his and took a deep breath.

"Let's do this." She whispered and, hand in hand, they walked down the steps into the desolate world, that, for the last few days, had seemed so far away.

This wasn't what he had in mind. He wanted to go for a walk to escape it all. Yet somehow their feet had led them here. Back to what he had wanted to escape from in the first place. He took in the scene before him. A small wooden cross with a simple brass plaque stood innocently in the ground before a small mound of clay. The daisies of the tiny wreath smiled up at him. It was such a stark image and even when he shut his eyes he couldn't avoid the picture. It burned his eyelids. It was to final. Too cold. Too cruel. His son should be in a warm home in a cosy cradle, not buried in the hard ground in a lonely cemetery. He forced all he knew about graves and decomposition to the back of his mind and cursed his own intelligence. He cursed the fact that, as a child, he decided he wanted to know what happened to his dead rabbit, Bun-bun. So much for pet heaven, he thought somewhat bitterly.

"Sara. Let's go." She looked at him, her eyes tear filled, her face still half covered by the scarf.

"I don't want to be here either, Michael, but how can we leave?" Her words were muffled by the material over her face. "That's our son, Michael! How can you just walk away and leave him?" Her tears were falling now, fast and steady.

"That's not him, Sara. That's a grave. That mound of clay will never be our son. We can't come here everyday and talk to a cross like it's Ben. We don't have to come to this place to speak to him or be near him." He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "Sara?" At her name she threw herself across the small distance between them and buried her head in his jacket, her hands clutching at the collar as her tears soaked through the fabric to burn his skin. He pulled her close until there wasn't a breath of air between them. He pressed a kiss to her hair before he rested his chin on her hair and unconsciously began rocking her slowly back and forth. He barely heard her she spoke so softly but he knew she had finally voiced the question that had filled her eyes for so many days,

"Why?"

**Okay so I took the liberty of making up a pet rabbit but, hey, it is fiction! Thanks to my good friend Niamh for the name. We spent an amusing geography class coming up with it. Hope you guys liked this chapter. Not sure when the next one will be up cause my mock exams start in a few weeks and I really need to start studying!**


	7. Day Seven: Share the Burden

**A/N: So sorry this took me so long but I had exams and study to do! But they're all over with now (well for a few months anyway) and I think I only managed to fail one of them! Anywho sorry for the incredibly long delay. Hope you haven't lost hope!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine never will be although I did manage to steal my sisters season 1 box set and claim it as my own!**

_**Share the Burden**_

He took a deep breath before reaching for the door knob, the distorted reflection of his hand staring up at him. Sara hovered behind him, gazing anxiously at the grainy wood of the closed front door. He glanced over his shoulder at her, shooting her an encouraging smile. Her face remained grim, her eyes, wide with what looked to Michael like terror, were sparkling with tears she refused to let fall. It was a battle she endured everyday. Usually the tears won out. Michael turned his attention back to the door, to the people he knew were waiting on the other side. Forcing a smile onto his lips he turned the door knob and pulled open the door.

His family stood on the other side, anxious smiles adorning their lips. Lincoln had one arm around his wife's waist, the other buried deep in his pocket. His eyes locked with Michael's and Michael saw the emotions in them change from sympathy to a vague sense of understanding. For this Michael was grateful. He didn't want sympathy. Or pity. He looked to Veronica. Her face was pale, her eyes nervous, her hands clasped protectively over her pregnant stomach which was, despite several layers of clothes, still visible. Always one to make others at ease, Michael smiled his most welcoming smile at her and watched as her grip on her stomach relaxed and her hands returned to her sides, her wedding band glinting like a star in the glaring sunlight.

He ushered them in and took their coats feeling more like a matre dei than a relative. He hung their coats on the antique stand almost hidden behind the door. It creaked under the weight and Michael cast a wary glance at it. He turned round and nearly walked into Lincoln. He and Veronica were patiently waiting. Waiting for what he wasn't sure. They never normally needed an invitation to come in, sit down or even root through the fridge. The situation was awkward and uncomfortable. He glanced around for Sara only to find she had disappeared. Probably back into the living room. Vee and his brother were watching him. He narrowed his eyes a little.

"What?" he stared at them, daring them to say "Nothing".

"How're you doing?" Lincoln's tone was low and serious. Michael resisted the urge to roll his eyes and shrugged. Some things couldn't be explained.

"And Sara?" This from Veronica. Another shrug.

"I think she's in the living room." Veronica shot her husband a panicked look. He nodded in encouragement and she left the room, a slightly wary look adorning her features. Michael sighed. He knew what was coming. He had experienced it many times before. Lincoln, ever the older brother would stare at him with worried eyes until he spilled his darkest secrets. It was Lincoln's own personal form of torture. The silent inquisition. He wouldn't ask Michael to talk, he wouldn't ask questions, he wouldn't get angry. He would just wait. Wait patiently until Michael cracked under the pressure of Lincoln's gaze. Warily Michael glanced up at his brother. The look was there. Some things never change.

"I don't want to talk about it, Linc."

"I never said you should." Michael nearly smiled at the familiarity of it all. It was almost like a game between them. A routine. Rules weren't decided and methods weren't discussed. It just…was. But Michael was bored of the age-old ritual. He couldn't voice his feelings just yet. He couldn't put into words the multitude of emotions that tortured him every day or the questions that plagued his mind. He looked up at Lincoln again. The look was still there. Michael sighed. But not a sigh of defeat.

"Not yet Linc. Please." Lincoln didn't ask what he was talking about. He didn't question or probe further. Miraculously he let it go. The intense gaze left his gaze and his lips quirked up into a smile.

" Hey did you see the game last night?" The question died on his now frowning lips as Michael shot him a withering look.

"Right. Of course you didn't. Sorry Mike." He rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort. Michael heard him mutter something about 'tact' under his breath and smiled.

"You want a beer?" he asked moving toward the fridge.

"Yeah that'd be good." His voice was less strained and Michael could sense his relief that nothing more was being said about the game comment.

"Uh on second thoughts, how 'bout a glass of water?" Michael's head peeked over the refrigerator door. "We haven't got round to shopping yet." Michael explained the lack of beverages with an actual taste in a somewhat sheepish tone.

"Me and Vee can do that if you like. The shopping I mean." Michael shook his head.

"Thanks for sorting things out the other day but not this time. I think it's something we have to do ourselves." Lincoln checked his brothers face to make sure he wasn't' just being polite. Seemingly satisfied, he nodded.

"You been out much?" Michael shrugged. They both remained quiet as Michael fill two glasses with water from the tap. He handed the glass to Lincoln who accepted it with a small smile.

"We went out for a walk yesterday"

"How'd that go?" Another shrug.

"How is she, Mike, really?" A shrug wouldn't suffice in answer to the question. Michael looked up from his glass. His eyes were wet but no tears threatened to fall.

"I don't know. Not good I guess. She…she's not talking about it much. She just cries and sleeps and stares into space. I can barely get her to eat or drink. Normally we just sit and don't talk about it. Every now and then we'll mention him but I don't think it does either of us any good. She won't talk to me Linc. I don't know what to do."

"You want us to go so you can try talk to her?"

"No I thought maybe Veronica might be able to get something out of her."

"You mean like that time she found out where Sara hid your keys after you refused to let her have a dog?" Michael smiled, more at Lincoln's efforts to cheer him up than at the memory he'd pulled from the not-so-distant past. They were both silent for a few moments before Lincoln spoke again.

"Just out of curiosity, why did you let her have a dog? I mean you love dogs." Michael smiled sadly.

"Because I wanted to have kids with her and I didn't want her to get attached to something we might not have been able to keep." His matter of facet tone was betrayed by the tears which watered in his eyes. "Maybe I should have got her the dog." Lincoln put his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"There'll be other kids Michael. You and Sara, you'll still have a family." His soft spoken words pushed Michael over the edge and the tears fell from his eyes curving glistening paths down his cheeks.

"But we wanted this kid, Linc. We wanted this family. We wanted Ben!" The words came out between choked sobs. Lincoln's arm tightened on Michael's shoulder and he pulled him into a rough hug. No words were uttered and Lincoln fell comfortably back into the role that Michael had adopted. Now it was his turn to save his brother.

Sara was sitting on the couch with her feet tucked under her gazing at the blank wall above the grey stone fireplace. Veronica sat on the opposite end of the couch, facing Sara and trying to get a response out of her. It didn't look like she was being too successful. Michael and Lincoln watched them from the doorway. If either woman was aware of their scrutinising presence in the room they didn't show it. Veronica spoke in hushed whispers so as not to break the eerie silence that had descended on a house that had once rejoiced in sound. Her voice was soft and soothing and her body leaned towards Sara. Michael couldn't' hear what she was saying. He rested his head against the doorframe. The sound of the water in the heating pipes in the basement hummed through the wood to his ear. Sighing he stepped into the room.

"Hey Vee." Sara started and Veronica turned her head to look at him. She smiled but her eyes shoed her worry. She made to get up from the couch but Michael motioned to her to stay seated.

"You want a drink Vee?" We've got water." He asked with a half-hearted grin. Veronica shook her head. "Sara?" An almost imperceptible shake but Michael had become good at reading the slightest movement. Sara's body language told him more than her words ever could. He moved towards the couch and sat down between Sara and Veronica. Sara leaned towards him slightly and he gathered her into his arms before pressing a gentle kiss to her hair. Her head fell to his shoulder and he rested his head on hers, her hair tickling his cheek. She clung to his jumper with her hands while he rubbed her back gently. So absorbed were they in the moment that they didn't feel Veronica's weight lift from the couch or hear the front door softly click shut. When Michaels mind returned to him after a rare absence he noticed that Lincoln and Veronica had left. Michael felt slightly annoyed at himself. They had come over to see them and he had as good as ignored them. He would have to call Lincoln later and apologise. Lincoln would, no doubt, tell him he had nothing to apologise for but he'd call anyway, if only for the selfish reason of clearing his own conscience.

"I did talk to her you know." Her voice jolted him from his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Veronica. I did talk to her. I didn't just sit there and try to make her more uncomfortable than she already felt.

"She didn't feel uncomfortable, Sara." He tried to reassure her although there was little doubt in his mind that Veronica had wanted to be anywhere but here.

"Of course she was uncomfortable. I scare her."

"Why on earth would you scare her?" He knew full well the reasoning behind her thinking but this conversation was a welcome break from the silence that would eventually replace it. He liked hearing her voice, even if it did sound distant and detached.

"I scare her because I'm the reminder that things can still go wrong. That even after all we've all been through, a happily-ever-after isn't guaranteed." Michael didn't know how to respond to this and so instead changed the direction of the conversation.

"Did it help?"

"Did what help?"

"Talking to Vee." She shrugged.

"It doesn't change anything. I know you thought talking to them might help us. Share the burden or whatever but in the end everything's the same. Ben's still gone and Veronica and Lincoln still have hope for the future."

"So do we Sara. We still have hope. And we still have a future. It might not have Ben in it but it's till a future. There's always hope Sara. As long as it's you and me there's still hope." He felt her nod against his chest.

"Yeah I guess we do."

**So there it is. Two chapters left. I have the rest of this week off so I might get another chapter written but whether or not I can kick my family off the computer for long enough to type it up is another story. Keep an eye out though. Thanks for reading.**


	8. Day Eight: Live Without Him

**A/N: **My bad. I honestly meant to have this up ages ago but I had mock orals last week and my official ones are in a few weeks so I'm up to my neck in Irish and German. So sorry about that! I'm not overly happy with this chapter but enjoy it none the less. I have the final chapter started but I'm really busy at the moment so it could be a while. Please don't give up on me just yet!

**Disclaimer: **Don't own 'em, never will

_**Live Without Him**_

The shrill beeping of the alarm clock shattered the tranquil silence of his dreams. The sound was one which had become foreign to him lately. He reached his arm across and swatted at the clock, releasing a thankful sigh as the incessant noise ceased. He sank his head back into the pillow. Sara snuggled closer to him and murmured something unintelligible in her sleep. Alarms never had worked for her. Michael pulled her closer an savoured the bittersweet moment of normalcy. He gazed around the room. The curtains were pulled shut yet the window was framed with sunlight which fought its way into the room. The mirror on the dresser showed a darker reflection of Michael's surroundings. At least from this angle. The sounds of traffic reached his ears mixed with the cheerful song of birds. In another lifetime this would have been perfect.

He let out a weary sigh. He pressed a kiss to Sara's head before he gently nudged her awake.

"C'mon Sara, time to get up." He murmured in a sing-song voice.

"Why?" She muttered, her voice thick with sleep.

"We talked about this last night remember? We're going shopping." He told her sleepy form. She groaned and snuggled closer to him, pulling the blanket tighter around them and promptly shutting her eyes to return to the world of sleep., If it hadn't been for the lack of a smile on her face, Michael would have been tempted to believe that everything was alright again.

"Five more minutes" He suggested. He wasn't quite ready to let go of the moment.

"Five more minutes." She murmured in agreement. Five more minutes, Michael thought as he pulled her closer and watched the room fade as his eyes fluttered shut.

It was a loud 'thunk' which woke him. He jolted awake and twisted his head toward the clock. He groaned. Their five minutes had lasted almost an hour. His mind wandered back to the sound which had woken him. He replayed the noise in his head several times before dismissing it as a bird hitting the window. He'd check once he woke Sara up.

"Sara" He nudged her shoulder and tweaked her nose. She scrunched it up in response and turned her head away from him into the comfortable safety of her pillow.

"C'mon Sara. We stayed in too late. It's nearly ten o' clock. Please get up! C'mon Sara!" He was nearly whining.

"Five more minutes." She muttered and buried her head further into the pillow without waiting for a response.

"Nuh uh. Not falling for it Sara. You got you five minutes already. It's time to get up." He rolled her over to face him. He leaned over her and lightly kissed her.

"I don't want to go." She whispered against his lips. He pulled back to look at her. Her face was so mournful that his heart nearly broke for her.

"Sara, it's something we have to do. And I need you there with me. We don't have to talk to anyone. We can be as rude as we like and ignore everyone but if we don't go it's likely we will starve in the next few days."

She looked at him and nodded. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes to rid them of sleep while he hopped out of bed and threw back the curtains. He quickly scanned the windowsill and the ground below the windowsill for any sign of a bird but, seeing none, returned back to the bed. Sara pulled her hands away but shut her eyes to block out the offending sunlight that streamed into the room. She groaned. Michael wasn't even sure why she wanted to stay in bed. It wasn't like she was going to get any more sleep. Neither of them had done much of that lately. Last night had been the first time in a while that they had both slept for more than a few hours at a time. Michael sighed at his wife before gripping the ends of the quilt and yanking it off the bed. Sara groaned at the sudden cold and curled her knees into her chest

"C'mon Sara, its time to get up. I'll go make some breakfast. Coffee and toast?"

A barely audible "yes" came from the pillow. He smiled and left the room.

He handed her a plate of toast and a mug of coffee as she sat down at the breakfast counter. She lifted the mug and inhaled the aroma. Black. Just how she liked it. No point in tainting the taste with milk she claimed. He was inclined to agree.

"You need a shower?" he asked her, munching on a slice of slightly overdone toast. She nodded as she swallowed a mouthful of coffee, gasping at its heat. Michael looked at her.

"You okay Sara?" She nodded and blew on the coffee.

"Hot".

Michael grinned at her and gently sipped his own coffee.

"I'll be quick"

He looked at her and shot her a questioning glance.

"With the shower. I'll be quick." He nodded but her eyes were focused on her coffee, blowing softly on it again, so he doubted she saw him.

"I'll make a list."

"Huh?" she looked at him, momentarily confused.

"For the shopping, I'll make a list of what we need."

"Oh, yeah, sure." She set down her mug - still half full - and pushed her stool back from the counter, wincing as it scraped on the tiles.

He stood by the bay window in the living room and stared into the street as the sound of the shower began to hum around him instilling in him an odd sense of calm. Despite it being midday the street was quiet. They didn't live in a busy part of town yet the unusual lack of people was unnerving to him. He wondered if there was something he'd forgotten about. Something he was missing. The sight of his neighbour from three doors down walking his rather overweight daschund filled him with relief. Mr Ingram raised a wary hand in greeting, his face nervous, his feet moving that little bit faster. Michael nodded at him and stared after him as he moved quickly down the street, almost dragging the struggling daschund behind him. Six minutes went by with no further sign of life and Michael was beginning to despair again when a teenager on a bike decided to grace the sidewalk, a dark green helmet balanced precariously on his head. Some use it would be like that, Michael mused. The seconds went by with loud ticks of the clock punctuating the whirring of the shower and splashing of the water. He felt lonely. He glanced down to the coffee table at the picture frame which had yet to find a permanent home. He reached down and his lithe fingers traced the knolls and knots in the varnished wood. His eyes roamed the room looking for a place to hang it. They settled once again over the fireplace. Sighing he moved away from the frame as he heard the shower switch off. He felt oddly relieved that Sara would be out soon. He should probably get started on that list.

Twenty minutes later saw Michael standing on the front doorstep waiting for Sara to lace up her shoes. A list a mile long rested in his back pocket. Half of the things they needed weren't even on it but Sara had become impatient with his over-riding need to plan even the simple things before he had a chance to complete the list. It seemed that Lincoln had emptied their house of all food and most likely brought it home with him. Which meant that Michael and Sara had to essentially start over.

"Okay let's do this." She said, sanding up, her voice steely with determination. Michael smiled at her but she marched past him to the car.

"Hey! I'm driving!" He shouted after her and she opened the drivers door. He jogged up to her.

"You're not driving." He stated, standing in her way of the car.

"Why?" She demanded, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed, head thrust forward. He almost smiled at her familiar 'I'm angry' pose. He repressed the smile however as he realised he didn't have a particularly valid reason. Well other than the fact that he didn't think she was up to driving so soon. But there was no way he was going to risk his life by telling her that. Instead he shrugged and moved to the passenger side of the car, sliding in and swiftly fastening his seatbelt. Sara had a tendency to drive fast when she was mad…

Michael let out a sigh of relief when they arrived, unscathed and still breathing, in the parking lot of the supermarket. Sara had driven over the speed limit the entire way and she had turned corners a little to fast and sharp for Michael's liking. He discovered half-moon indentations in his palm - evidence of how tightly he had fisted his hand. He ignored the fact that his legs were shaking as he got out of the car.

It felt like going back in time. He hunched over the shopping cart, head bowed low, face buried behind the collar of his jacket. She linked her arm through his and pulled herself as close to him as possible. Her scarf covered the lower half of her face and she too wanted to avoid being noticed. It was so similar to situations Michael had been in while on the run that he had to keep reminding himself that he was free. Glancing up he noticed their neighbour Mrs O Malley coming towards them. He quickly steered the cart and Sara into the nearest aisle and hoped she hadn't seen them. The last thing either of them needed to hear right now was how great her grandson Geoffrey was doing.

He pulled the list from his pocket and quickly scanned it for anything they needed from this particular aisle. He had most of the items committed to memory but he wanted to appear as if he was actually doing something. He sighed. This was going to be a long shopping trip.

They kept their gaze glued to the ground, only raising their heads to pull something off a shelf. They avoided eye contact with other shoppers and purposefully averted their eyes from the smiling babies on tins of milk formula, the bottles, soothers and bumper packs of _Pampers _that lined the shelves. Michael couldn't wait to get out of their and, judging from the strength of the grip Sara had on his arm, he guessed she felt the same.

He paused at the checkouts, considering his options, considering his options. Should he go to the shortest queue with the chattiest salesgirl who would scan his items through quick and then they could leave or should he join one of the longer queues, thus prolonging his stay but avoiding awkward conversations about the weather and how he was felling toady. He glanced at Sara who was absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread on her jacket cuff. He took in her slouched stance and weary expression and opted for the quick checkout and awkward conversation. Maybe if he avoided eye contact and didn't smile at her she would take the hint.

No such luck.

"Good morning Mr. Scofield!"

Michael quickly disguised his scowl as a forced smile of greeting. He hated when people recognised him.

"Mrs. Scofield."

Sara looked up, startled.

"Huh?"

"Great weather isn't it?" Michael interjected quickly, drawing the girls attention away from his wife. She took the bait and jumped at the chance to talk about the mild weather and the face that it had been so warm on her recent holiday to somewhere thousands of miles away from The Windy City. Michael wished he could miles away from Chicago. He tuned her words out, focusing instead on the speed at which her hands scanned the items. They blurred with the bold colours of the packaged goods to form a distorted rainbow. He shook his head as she scanned the last of the items through. He fished his wallet from his pocket and turned to the girl who was looking at him with a curious eye. Michael hoped she hadn't asked hi a question. He read the amount of the display and handed her the crisp notes. She smiled warily as she handed him back his change. He politely thanked her, slid the money into his pocket and turned to the cart, which the packing boy had loaded with the filled bags. He had clearly noticed the couples discomfort. Michael shot him a grateful glance and smiled as the boy rolled his eyes at the salesgirls back. Michael grabbed the cart and practically ran from the shop, Sara's arm still wrapped firmly round his.

He leaned back against the car with a sigh after loading the bags into the car. Sara stood beside him still fiddling with the thread on her cuff.

"That was hell". Michael exhaled a long breath.

"It's exactly why I don't ever want to leave the house again. I can't stand people staring at me." Michael pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back gently as she sighed against his shoulder.

"It'll get better, easier." Michael told her. She sighed.

"Take me home." Michael nodded and slowly pulled away from her. They got into the car and slowly made their way from the parking lot, Sara, glad to be going home, Michael glad to be driving.


	9. Day Nine: Smile

**Author's note:**** So I'm finally done! I've had this chapter written for a while but never got round to typing it up. Sorry it took so long! So here it is. The last one! It took me six months… I'm never writing a multi-chap again! Well enjoy! I'm off back to my study marathon! Yay! Fell free to leave a review at the end to tell me how I've done! My over worked brain will appreciate it! **

**Disclaimer: ****Same as in all other chapters. Don't own 'em. Highly unlikely I ever will. **

Smile 

He woke up to an empty space beside him and his first instinct was to panic. Horrible images flashed before his eyes, most of them involving needles, pills or 100 story buildings. He scrunched up his eyes and took a deep breath - something which he found actually did calm him when his mind went into overdrive. He took another deep breath before wrenching the sheets from his body and untangled his legs from them. His jeans lay in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed where he had abandoned them the night before. He pulled them on and brushed his hands down the legs in a vain attempt to rid them of some of the creases. He ignored his pounding heart as he made his way to the living room, hoping to find Sara sleeping on the couch. He needed to take several more deep breaths when he didn't find her there. The images came back with a vengeance. He pressed a hand to the wall to steady himself as he tried to rid his body of the hopefully unfounded panic.

To say he was relieved to find her in the kitchen was an understatement. His body nearly collapsed as the panic rushed from his cells leaving him breathless. She was hunched over at the breakfast bar and looked to be eating something while flicking idly through the TV magazine. She looked so normal, so _Sara_, that he had to fight the urge to wrap his arms around her and keep her safely locked in his embrace. Instead he padded over in his bare feet and kissed the top of her head.

"Hey."

"Morning." She said before spooning more cornflakes into her mouth.

"You're up, eh…early." It was eleven o' clock.

"I was hungry." She shrugged. Michael looked at her in disbelief. She hadn't shown inclination for food in over a week.

"You didn't wake me." She looked up at him.

"You only got a few hours sleep last night. I figured I'd let you sleep while you could." She shrugged again before looking back to her magazine.

"Thanks." Michael muttered still confused. "You want some coffee?" He asked. Sara lifter up her Sears Tower mug in a silent answer. Michael was on the verge of laughing at the familiarity of the morning routine. Shaking his head he went in search of his own breakfast.

_He held her hand and tightly squeezed it. So tight that their knuckles turned white. She looked at him and managed a worried smile. Her lips trembled anxiously. Fear flickered in her damp eyes but he smiled at the hope buried behind it. He nervously tapped his bare foot on the cold bathroom tiles, relishing in the distraction the light slapping sound provided. She alternated between chewing her nails and biting her lower lip. Michael couldn't remember ever being this nervous before. The rest of his life was to be determined in the next two minutes. 120 seconds had never gone so slow._

_The shrill beeping of the timer sounded. Michael cut it off as Sara turned terrified eyes to meet his. His skin tingled in anticipation. He smiled at her and she managed to smile weakly in return. She nodded at him and he picked up the white stick. His face broke into an enormous grin._

"_You're going to be a mom!"_

"_You're going to be a dad?!" A disbelieving question._

"_We're going to be parents!" He flung the stick away and picked her up in his arms, clinging tightly to her as he spun her round their bathroom, their excited laughter echoing off the walls._

"Hey did we buy any chocolate yesterday?" Sara was rooting around the kitchen press. Michael was watching her from the doorway, torn between amusement and irrational worry.

"No you didn't want any."

"Oh." She looked at him forlornly.

"You want me to go down to the shop for some?"

"No. I can go." She told him in a tone that said she didn't want to go at all.

"No, it's okay. I need some fresh air anyway. I'll go down."

"You sure?" He nodded. She shrugged. He needed to get out and think. He needed to clear his head and try to figure out Sara's behaviour. If he wasn't enlightened by the time he got back? Well then he'd just have to ask her.

"_Isn't it beautiful!" she gushed and turned to look at him. He stared at it but even his advanced mind couldn't see what she was seeing. But hell, he'd lie for her so he forced a mile to his face and gushed right along with her._

"_It really is. I mean it's so amazing." Michael cringed inwardly at the all too obvious insincerity of his tone._

"_Michael?". He looked at her, her eyes were laughing at him. "You don't see it do you?" she teased._

"_Of course I do! Well that is I sort of do. I mean there's that there and um…that and uh…no. Sorry. Not a thing." Sara giggled at him and turned back to the screen._

"_It's okay. You don't have five years of medical school behind you." she shared a look with her obstetrician who smiled at her._

"_See this?" Sara pointed to a slightly fluttering blob to the right of the screen. Michael nodded. "Well that's the foot. And there, behind it, that's the other one." Michael's eyes widened as the blob took shape. Sara pointed out a head and arms and the beginnings of tiny fingers and toes._

"_Ten of each see!?"_

"_Not really, but I'll take your word for it." She laughed and pointed out the closed eyes, the dark colour that was the heart, the cord attached to the stomach linking their baby to it's life force._

"_It's beautiful!" Michael exclaimed._

"_Told you!" Sara grinned and stroked his hand with her thumb. Their doctor smiled._

"_Do you want to know the sex?" she asked_

"_You can tell already?!" The doctor laughed._

"_We can be fairly accurate yes." Michael turned to Sara._

"_Do you know?" She shook her head. "Can we wait a little longer? Until next time maybe?" He asked._

"_Yeah I'd like to keep it a surprise for a little longer?" _

"_Would you like a print out?" Michael's eyes lit up._

"_Definitely!" Laughing, the doctor nodded. Michael and Sara looked back at the screen. Michael watched his child move in its confined quarters. His heart tingles with joy and love. He doubted anything could ever bring him down from this high._

"_Hey baby." Sara whispered_

It was cold out and Michael pulled his collar tighter round his neck. He plunged his hands into his pockets and strode briskly down the street ignoring the biting wind that reddened his cheeks. As the ground disappeared beneath his feet he pondered his current predicament. Sara was certainly acting different but he couldn't avoid the niggling feeling that her behaviour was due to denial rather than acceptance. He had hoped they were moving forward, not back but he wasn't sure. Maybe he wasn't giving her enough time. Maybe he wasn't giving himself enough time. His head wasn't any clearer by the time he reached the local shop but he gratefully welcomed the usually stuffy heat of the small store. He browsed the shelves of chocolate, skipping over the Hershey's and Nestle to the darker, richer chocolate. Sara liked it's bitterness. He deliberated over 70 and 85 cocoa content before opting to buy both. He walked to the counter and put the bars down, followed quickly by his money as he realised the cashier was far to engrossed in 'Pimp my Ride' to pay attention to a customer. It seemed that nothing ever changed. Sara had used to make a point of clearing her throat and tapping her keys on the counter to get this particular kids attention, despite having the correct change. She did it just to annoy him. Michael felt in no way inclined to attract the cashier's attention today. He left his money on the counter and braced himself for the cold outside.

He ignored the few people he passed on his way home, burying his head in his collar and avoiding eye contact. His mind was preoccupied planning what to say once he got home. He gripped the bars of chocolate in his hand, contemplating bribery but scrapping the notion almost immediately.

"_I'm so glad you got a craving for normal food." Sara smiled as she tucked into her third helping of pineapple in as many hours. Twice daily walks with Michael and a lack of binging on junk food meant that Sara had gained only a little weight, despite nearing her third trimester. She could easily cover her bump with baggy clothes. Not that she ever did. She proudly displayed her pregnancy. She grinned when people commented on hr pregnancy glow and basked in the light of being a mum-to-be. Michael had never seen her so happy. News of Veronica's pregnancy only meant that the two of them spent hours browsing children's stores. Browsing but never buying. They had decided to wait until after the next scan before buying anything. Just to be sure._

_Michael was itching to get to the next scan. He always kept the picture of the scan with him in his wallet. His child's first picture. He couldn't wait to know if it was a boy or a girl. Not that it mattered which but it would be nice to be able to call his child something other than 'it'. Secretly he thought Sara wanted a boy. He had seen her eyeing the little blazer and shirt suit sets online. Whichever sex it was, Michael couldn't wait._

"_Michael we're going to need more pineapple." He looked up as Sara popped the last yellow chunk into her mouth. She grinned as she swallowed the fruit._

"_Baby's hungry."_

He found her sitting cross legged on the couch engrossed in a magazine that Michael knew was at least two weeks old.

"I got you 85 and 70. That okay?"

"Yeah, thanks." she muttered taking the proffered chocolate and opening the 85 bar.

"You want some?" Michael shook his head.

"I was thinking." She paused but didn't look up at him. "Maybe we should give the crib to Lincoln and Veronica." Michael snapped his head round to look at her, a shocked expression adorning his features.

"Sara…" His voice was cautious.

"I mean it's like you said, we need to move on right? And it's not like we need the crib anymore. It's just going to sit in the closet." She still refused to look at him, her eyes focused on the ring she was twirling round her finger. To Michael her speech sounded rehearsed.

"_Hey Michael?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Can we go shopping?" She looked up at him with pleading eyes._

"_More pineapple?" He teased curling a lock of her auburn hair round his fingers. Sara grinned as she traced the patterns oh his skin. It was late in the morning and they were still in bed, tangled in the sheets and listening to the world outside the window._

"_I was thinking more for baby things?" she asked hopefully._

"_Today?" She nodded against his shoulder in answer. "But the scans not for two days. I thought you wanted to wait?"_

"_Well I do. I just want to get something before we know if it should be blue or pink. I want something yellow! Just a crib Michael! Please!" She gazed up at him, doe-eyed and smiling softly. He glanced out the window, pondering his answer._

"_Yeah I think a crib would be nice." Sara squealed and kissed him._

"_Seriously?"_

"_Yes but just a crib. Nothing else, okay?"_

"_Nothing else. Gotcha! Mow, c'mon let's go."_

"And Veronica and Lincoln are going to need it soon." She continued, her voice monotone. "And I know they don't have on yet. So I though, why not give them ours."

"Sara, don't…"

"Don't what? You said we needed to move on. That's what I'm trying to do!"

"No. You're trying to forget it ever happened. That's not what I want. It's not what you want. We'll have other chances to have a family Sara but we can't forget the one we had, even if it was only for a short time."

"I don't want to forget. God knows I don't" But I don't find it as easy as you do to move on Michael." Her voice was slightly raised now, her face flushed. "I can't just go about my daily business like nothings happened. Like I didn't just lose my son! I thought maybe if I didn't have a crib and that stupid mobile as a constant reminder I might be able to do what you do. This isn't easy for me Michael!"

"Sara do you really think I find this easy? This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. Do you really believe that he's not constantly on my mind?" He looked at her intently. She finally glanced up at him, tears pooling in her brown eyes.

"You never cry. You're always suggesting we do something. Something that can get us back to normal. Don't you understand, Michael? There can never be a normal again. WE can't go back from this. And you keep insisting we move on!" Her words were infused with anger, and behind her tears her eyes flashed with barely suppressed emotion. Michael scooted over on the couch and pulled her to him, ignoring her initial feeble protests.

"I'm sorry, Sara. I'm sorry. It's how I cope. I can't sit round doing nothing. You know that I can't just wait to get over this. I have to do it myself. I'm sorry. I didn't realise I was dragging you with me. I'm sorry." His last words were whispered in a soft voce.

"Sometimes I wish this whole thing had never happened. That Ben had never existed. Then there wouldn't be all this pain. And the I realise what I'm thinking and I hate myself for it." She began sobbing against his chest. He rubbed her back.

"I know it hurts but think of all the good times huh? Think of all those moments with Ben. Would you give them up?" She shook her head. "It'll get better, I promise." He whispered and held her closer.

"_Michael!"_

"_What? What's wrong!" He couldn't keep the panic from his voice. Several heads on the train turned to look at them, attention piqued by his raised voice. He ignored them and focused his worried eyes on Sara. She took his hand in hers and placed it palm down on her rounded stomach. Michael felt the fluttering and vibrations all the way up his arm._

"_Baby's kicking." The onlookers smiled at his wonder._

The ringing of the phone pierced the quiet stillness of their sober dinner.

"It's Lincoln." Michael looked up from his spaghetti bolognaise.

"How do you know?" He asked, curious. Sara shot him a withering look.

"Who else would it be? Everyone else is avoiding us remember."

"Oh yeah." Michael got up and lifted the phone from its cradle on the wall. "Hello?" He listened for a moment before turning to Sara. "It's Lincoln."

"Told you." She said grimly before returning her attention to her meal. Michael watched her as he listened to his brother on the phone. He smacked a hand to his head.

"Sorry Linc. I completely forgot." He told his brother sincerely. A few moments later and a small, if a little sad, smile graced his lips.

"That's great Linc. We're really happy for you."

"No, honestly it's great. Tell Vee congratulations."

"Yeah I'm in the middle of dinner. I'll call later. And Linc?… I really am happy for you both." He hung up the phone with a sigh and sat back down, picking up his fork and twirling it through his fingers. Sara looked at him, a question on her face.

"They had their scan today." A look of recognition crossed Sara's face. "It's a girl."

"Oh." She looked at him and their eyes connected. "I'm glad." She said a little sheepishly. "I…I didn't want it to be a boy." She looked down, ashamed of her selfish thoughts.

"Me either. As awful as it sounds I can't help but feel that I would have resented him. Resented them. I feel horrible about it." He admitted. She looked at him and sighed.

"Me too. I feel selfish. But Vee did want a girl so I'll bet they're really happy."

"Yeah. I'm glad they're happy." Both hid the resentment and bitterness from their voices and resumed their meal.

"_It's a boy!"_

"_Sara we're having a boy!" Sara gaped at the screen._

"_A boy." She whispered._

"_Yeah now you can buy those weird little suits you were eyeing online." Michael teased. She blushed and laughed._

"_We're having a boy Michael! We're going to have a son."_

"_Would you like another picture?" Their doctor questioned, smiling._

"_No this time we're just going to wait for the real thing." Michael told her as he leaned in and kissed Sara, stealing her breath and their sons._

Michael flicked mindlessly through the channels, pausing on each for less than a second.

"Will you stop that! How can we see what's on if you change the channel as soon as you flick onto it!" Sara said exasperatedly.

"Sorry." He replied sheepishly and offered her the remote. She took it and turned off the tv. He looked at her confused.

"It needs a home." She stated simply.

"What does?" Michael had an

"His frame." she said quietly.

"I'll get it." She nodded and he went to retrieve the frame from the coffee table by the window. He handed to her and she gently accepted it, running her fingers round the frame.

"I'll get a hook or something." She nodded again and brushed her hand over the glass covering the blue hand prints.

He returned a minute later with a gold hook and a ball of tangled twine.

"Where do you think it should go?" He asked. She looked up at him with moist eyes.

"Beside the window?" She offered. He gently took the frame from her and stood on a chair by the window. He lifted it up and held it to the wall.

"Here?" Sara looked at him and a tear spilled from her eye, curving a shimmering path down her cheek.

"Above the fireplace. It should go above the fireplace." She whispered. Michael nodded in agreement and got down from the chair. He dragged it to the fireplace and got back up. He lifted the frame and held it to the wall. He looked back at her over his shoulder and raised his eyebrows in question.

"There?"

"Yeah." Holding the frame with one hand he put the hook in its correct position before lowering the frame to the chair. He screwed the hook into the wall before fixing the twine to the frame. He delicately attached the frame to the hook.

"How's that?"

"It's crooked." He leaned back as far as his arms would let him and fixed the frame to the correct angle.

"How about now?"

"Good. It's good."

"_Is this from the usual place?" she asked as she poked half heartedly at her lemon chicken._

"_Yeah why?"_

"_Nothing. It just tastes a little different. New chef or something maybe."_

"_Mmmm. Yeah maybe. Mines good. Maybe just a sour lemon!" Sara rolled her eyes at him as he laughed at his own pathetic joke. She hit him over the head with a cushion form the couch._

"_Brilliant, Scofield. You should do stand-up. You'd wow an audience!" She laughed at him and ducked to avoid the cushion flung back in her direction. She sat back up straight. Her smile turned to a wince. Michael noticed and took her hand. He moved closer to her when her wince became an audible gasp of pain. She looked at him, tears pooling in her frightened eyes._

"_Michael, something's wrong…"_

"Wait. I'll be right back." He promised, removing his hands gently from the frame and making sure it stayed up before hopping off the chair and leaving the room. Sara's eyes followed his back in curiosity.

He returned moments later, his wallet in his hand. He got back on the chair and pulled a worn photo from his wallet. He carefully tucked his only picture of his son into the corner of the frame. He looked back at Sara.

"How about now?"

"Perfect." She said strongly and, for the first time since their world had gone so horribly wrong, she smiled.


End file.
